


Surrender for Me

by KyraEllis



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dom/sub, F/M, Light BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-17 08:03:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17556488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyraEllis/pseuds/KyraEllis
Summary: Nakia is having a hard time letting herself enjoy her sexual relationship with T'Challa. But he's got an experiment in mind that will bring out every sensation she's been afraid to feel...





	1. I Want to, But...

"Breathe," T'Challa whispered to Nakia, as he lifted himself slightly away from her torso to give her room.

She lay on the bed beneath him, her flawless skin and perfect lips entrancing T'Challa like usual. He didn't know how he had ever managed to meet a woman so beautiful and confident, let alone that she would want to be his partner, would end up with him in a moment like this. He wanted her to have every pleasure in the world. He wanted to coax her body to sing. But, that wasn't to happen today.

"I can't."

Nakia was stiff against the mattress. He could tell she was immensely uncomfortable and so he rolled away onto his side, so that he could observe her without the pressure of his body infringing her space. She looked up at him, and he could see the softness that hid behind her fierce exterior. He loved that she allowed him to see this side of her, the vulnerable woman mixed with the warrior she was. But the flash was only for a minute, before her face grew guarded again.

"I want to," she released the air she was holding. "But I just can't relax. I don't know what it is."

T'Challa gently stroked the side of her arm with a finger.

"It's not important that we do everything right now. I'm not an impatient man. We'll take all the time you need." He paused. "The only thing I really want is to make you feel like the amazing and sexy woman that you are."

Nakia's eyes roved his face, as though trying to see if he was being genuine. Perhaps she decided that he was.

"Let's give it one more try," she said slowly.

T'Challa felt his throat constrict at the prospect of placing his skin against hers again. He took his time, first scooting his body slightly closer to her again, then letting his hand wander to her right shoulder. He caressed her upper arm and began to slide back over her. She sank against the pillow and welcomed his mouth on her own. T'Challa forced himself to hold back his enthusiasm. He kissed her like she was made of the thinnest glass, even though he knew her spirit was firm and tough as diamonds. Nakia melted a little underneath his sweet rhythms, and T'Challa felt himself grow hard against her leg as she let out a small moan under his ministrations.

His right hand drifted its way down to her breasts, which he worshiped for a moment before moving down to her stomach, the side of her torso, her thigh, and then between her legs. T'Challa felt a moisture and his member quickened at her response. He slid a finger between her folds and his thumb gently against her nub, beginning to circle it with a light touch. Nakia moaned harder into his still-active mouth and ground against his hand to increase the pressure. Then, he slipped his first digit inside of her and she froze.

"Stop!" she cried suddenly. T'Challa immediately removed his hand and released her, feeling a pang of anguish and remorse as he did so. Nakia was panting, chest heaving with her arousal, but also he could now see, with fear. Her eyes were wide and unfocused.

"Nakia?" he said urgently. "Nakia, baby, tell me what you're feeling. What's wrong?"

She didn't speak to him for a full minute, and each second that ticked by was agony for T'Challa. Eventually, the risings of her chest slowed, and the life returned to her eyes. She didn't look at him.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I don't know why it's too much for me. I just can't for some reason."

He could see that he was still moving too fast for her, and he mentally kicked himself for not recognizing it earlier.

"You don't have anything to apologize for. I'm the one who wasn't slow enough. I wasn't listening to your body, and that's the most important thing."

There were both silent for a moment, and out of the base of his mind T'Challa began to develop an idea.

"Nakia?"

"Yes?"

"Nakia, would you let me do an experiment with you?" He could see her tense again, and quickly added, "Not now, not now of course. Over the coming weeks. I--if you trust me enough that is--I would like to make a sort of project out of our sex. Based around your pleasure. Based around exactly what you need, and only what you need. I want to see if I can help bring out the parts of you that need to let go."

Nakia thought for a moment. "What do you have in mind?"

T'Challa lifted a corner of his mouth in a cheeky, yet bashful grin. "How do you feel about letting me pick your wardrobe?"

She gave him a quizzical look, but seemed interested enough that he knew she would acquiesce to his new idea. The possibilities for what he could do to coax out the fire of her own desire was intoxicating. He longed to see and feel and hear the woman who surrendered her body to its own pulse and voice. If everything went well, she would be liquid under his hands and hips and mouth and...

The truth was, he couldn't wait to get started.


	2. Take it off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T'Challa wants Nakia to mix up her wardrobe for the sake of his sexy experiment.

"You want me to what?"

Nakia was not immediately enthusiastic about T'Challa's first idea to help unlock her sexuality.

Now that he'd said the thing out loud he was worried too that perhaps the plan was juvenile or presumptuous. Who was he, a man, and a powerful one at that, telling her how she could relate more fully to her body during their lovemaking? He just wanted so very much to please her.

"It was just an idea...nevermind. It was a bad one. Don't pay attention to what I just said." He scratched his neck and averted his eyes, embarrassed.

"No, it's fine," replied Nakia. "I was actually just curious why that was all you wanted me to do."

T'Challa breathed a sigh of relief. He and Nakia were standing on a balcony outside of the royal meeting chambers high above Wakanda. From their vantage point, they could see lush green hills and carefully tended fields stretching out far into the distance. He loved this view of his kingdom. He felt privileged to be able to call it his own, and he hoped one day that Nakia would as well. That thought brought his mind back to the experiment at hand.

"Well, if you're okay with it, then let me show you what I have in mind."

He led the way back into the tower and up to his bedchambers. Despite the fact that he and Nakia had been together for many months now, he still felt self-conscious about having her here. T'Challa coughed into his hand to cover his nervousness, and then went over to his dresser to pull out a body-length garment.

It was a slip to go underneath other clothing, but one made of Wakandan fabric, meaning the quality surpassed any textile that might be created elsewhere in the world. It was a sheer, champagne-colored affair, with lace edging the hem of the shoulder straps and skirt bottom. As he held it out to Nakia, the slip fluttered and shimmered in the lazy afternoon breeze.

Nakia's mouth was open. "It's beautiful," she breathed, seeming almost afraid to reach for it. When she did, she draped the clothing over one arm and held a swath of it between the fingers of her other hand, rubbing it gently. T'Challa felt a heat rise from his stomach as he imagined Nakia sliding the smooth silk over her freshly naked body, perhaps just toweled off after a shower. He could then come up behind her and caress his hands from her shoulders down over her taut nipples, who's sensitivity the fabric would enhance, and then all the way down to...

"You'd like to see me put it on, wouldn't you?" Nakia's voice interrupted his dirty thoughts.

T'Challa gulped. "Is it that obvious?"

"Pretty much." She grinned. "Wait right there."

Nakia went into his walk-in closet and pressed the button to close the door behind her. After a few very long moments of T'Challa imagining what the scene behind the door looked like at the moment, Nakia opened it again.

T'Challa made a bit of a strangled noise before he realized to breathe again. To say she was a sight was an extreme understatement. The slip floated over her body like a passing cloud, just sheer enough to give him a hint of her dark nipples beneath the fabric, but opaque enough to drive him crazy wondering what else he would be able to see without the garment in the way. She looked stunning, and a particular region of his body responded to the effect.

She smoothed her hands over the top. "We've got an event to go to, right babe?"

T'Challa had completely forgotten about the cocktail hour with the Jibari tribe at this point. He was glad for Nakia's reminder, even if it meant some mental restraint to deflate his enthusiasm for her body.

"Will you be wearing...that?" he wanted to know.

Nakia waggled her hips flirtatiously. "You know, at first I wasn't sure, but now I think I kind of like it. I think I'll throw on a dress over it and you can spend the whole night imagining the rest of the picture."

"Oh, I'll do more than imagine," growled T'Challa, as he moved to the dresser to find his own outfit. "Don't even think we've gotten started yet."


	3. Slipped Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T'Challa and Nakia attend a cocktail hour with Nakia's new outfit, and some hands slip through the layers...

"I'm not sure you see where we're coming from T'Challa."

As usual, Mbaku was not thrilled with the way that T'Challa chose to run his kingdom. He resisted the urge to place his forehead in his palm. Negotiating with Mbaku and his followers was the biggest headache in the world. T'Challa did his best to keep them happy without compromising his own need for their army's protection and agricultural products, but it seemed that they were always clashing over something or another.

"Mbaku," he intoned. "Be reasonable. The tariffs that you're asking for on the grain is too high. We won't be able to keep up with our technology development wing and our foreign aid if we agree to everything you want."

"It seems that Wakanda has plenty of riches to spread around."

"Yes, but frugality is the way we keep that true. We can't spend everything we have, or the next generation won't have any room to grow."

Nakia stood beside him on the side of the high table across from Mbaku and his chief counselor. The difficulty of the conversation was raised by about five levels because of her presence. His brain kept flashing back to her magnificence in the slip as she showed it off to him in the bedroom. When Mbaku raised an important point, T'Challa had to tell him to repeat the information a few times.

He could tell that Nakia knew what effect she was having on him. She smirked slightly, an expression he caught out of the corner of his eye as he hashed out crop yields with Mbaku's advisor. A flush of indigence ran through him. T'Challa was supposed to be the one guiding this experiment and Nakia's experience, not the other way around. If only he could think of some way to remind her who was in charge...

T'Challa let the slightest hint of his own smirk cross his face as he got an idea.

As slowly as one could possibly move, T'Challa sidled closer to Nakia so that their hips were pressed up against one another. The warmth of her body ran electric currents through his right side. He wished it weren't inappropriate for him to get behind her at the moment so he could feel the seductive curve of her ass against his groin. He'd have to make do.

With nearly imperceptible movements, and chatting with Mbaku all the while, T'Challa moved his hand to Nakia's groin and pressed his fingers slightly into the crevice he found there.

Nakia started.

"Are you alright my lady?" asked Mbaku's counselor.

Nakia coughed and recovered her composure. "Yes, of course," she said. "I forgot about an assignment I was to give my personal assistant today and remembered its importance. Please carry on." Underneath the table, she moved her hand over T'Challas, though not to remove it he noticed.

He gently used his hand in a series of scrunching movements to pull the fabric of her dress and slip up to her hips and then slide his fingers across her underwear and onto the warm flesh below.

This time, Nakia was prepared, and T'Challa sure he was the only one to notice her slight jerk before her body relaxed against his palm. She parted her lips slightly and breathed out long and slow.

"How about two-thirds of what you're proposing?" T'Challa suggested to Mbaku as he used his first two fingers to slide up and down Nakia's nakedness. He imagined the bare air of the hall to be stimulating her alongside his hand, and he felt his own erection gain life again as he imagined what Nakia would look like to anyone who could take a full look at her from the side, fully dressed and elegant from her asymmetrical natural hairdo and the pearls circling her neck, and yet splayed out for him like a common street girl, pushing into his fingers impatiently. He was having a harder and harder time concentrating on the conversation.

T'Challa's fingers found her clit, and that's where Nakia began to look _very_ distracted as well. Her right hand grabbed the edge of the table suddenly and she looked as though she almost sloshed the martini she held with her left. She took a shaky sip, as he ground down against her nub in circles.

Soon he moved from her clit downward and felt the dampness that indicated her pleasure with what was happening. Nakia smiled slightly and closed her eyes for a long blink, but it was missed by Mbaku and his advisor as they all laughed at one of T'Challa's jokes about the diligence of the Wakandan farmers.

She was openly gyrating now, but only from her hips and below, still invisible to the two men across from them. He could sense her breathing coming in tighter waves and he manipulated her folds like a hungry explorer, opening her for all the world to see. If anyone were to drop a fork and look their direction, they would have been scandalized by what they saw.

T'Challa brought her to the edge multiple times with his slipping in and out of her cleft and shifting the tempo and shape of his finger's movements. Nakia seemed to grow increasingly frustrated with him and she ground against his hand, even trying to rub herself against his forearm to relieve her tension, but he didn't let her get enough friction to come.

T'Challa only began to wonder if the advisor was catching on to their activities toward the end, where Nakia started to have trouble keeping her movements and pleasure hidden from the rest of the table. The man gave them a quizzical look as T'Challa finally allowed Nakia her release and she clenched suddenly around his fingers and let out one heavy and quick exhale. He felt the shudders of her body as she came down from the intense sensations he'd been coaxing from her body.

T'Challa removed his hand and discreetly wiped it on the napkin in front of him with a wicked grin at the man across from him, who shifted uncomfortably and then looked away. Mbaku seemed none the wiser.

Nakia, noticing the exchanged glance between the counselor and T'Challa looked suddenly enraged. T'Challa got a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Uh oh, he'd gone too far again.

She pinched his arm _hard_ under the table.

"Ouch!" he involuntarily let out.

"T'Challa?" Mbaku looked confused.

"Soreness from combat practice," muttered T'Challa as he rubbed his forearm gingerly.

Meanwhile, Nakia stalked off in a hustle, smoothing her dress as she went. She gave him no backward glance, and T'Challa knew that he now had to come up with a very good apology for allowing their public display to be known. He suspected she had returned to her own room, and he was impatient for the conversation to finish, so that he could find her there in private where she would be more comfortable and say he was sorry.

T'Challa also knew that some apologies are best said with the body.

"I think we have a deal, men," said T'Challa, extending his hand for a shake and hoping its smell wasn't too apparent to Mbaku, who looked very pleased indeed to have gotten such a good rate from the suddenly compromising king of Wakanda.


	4. Sweet Apology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T'Challa knows he has messed up and comes to Nakia to make the sweetest apology he knows how.

T'Challa knocked tentatively on the door to Nakia's chambers.

"What?!"

He winced. He supposed he shouldn't be too surprised that Nakia didn't want to see him right after the way he'd let his pleasuring of her under the table be known at the Jabari tribe reception.

"My love." T'Challa hesitated. "My love, I was completely out of line back in the reception hall. I should never have risked such a public display, knowing we could be found out. I didn't mean to smirk or brag with the assistant...I simply wasn't thinking." He hung his head. "My love, can you forgive me?"

Silence from the other side of the door.

"Nakia? Are you still there Nakia?"

"Well, obviously I'm still here. Unless you've installed one without telling me, it seems there is only one way in and out of this room. Unfortunately..."

T'Challa rubbed the back of his neck. "Nakia, I would very much like to apologize to you. If you open the door and let me in, I can show you exactly how. I want to...I want to apologize the right way, the only way I know how."

This time, he thought he sensed that the silence on the other side of the door was curious, not quite as hostile as before. He held his breath, hopeful, until he heard the soft, measured patter of her feet and her smooth, wise face appeared in a crack between them.

"You had better make this good," she said, before turning back into the room.

T'Challa gingerly pushed the door the rest of the way open and entered, shutting it gently behind him. Nakia had seated herself on a plush, orange chair in the reading nook by the window. He would have to convince her to come to bed with him, but he knew he couldn't push anything too fast. Instead he began by crossing the room, kneeling at her feet and taking one between his palms, beginning to rub it tender and firm.

The gesture seemed to mollify Nakia a little, who was probably thinking he would try to belt out an insincere apology first thing. She leaned back a little into the chair and let him circle the underside of her foot with a firm thumb, catching first the ball of her foot and slowly working his way down to the heel. After a few moments with one foot, she silently offered him the other and he did the same for that one.

Most of the tension had drained out of Nakia after ten minutes, and so T'Challa risked moving a little further up to smooth the flesh of her calves between his hands, and then, very slowly, working up to her thighs. He tuned his sense of touch to her body, and only her body. Aware of her most minute knots of stress and caressing them into smoothness.

It was she who rose first and told him, "Come." Her dress closed over her legs again and trailed as she walked to the bed and sat down. He followed, gently lifting her as he reached the bed and laying her back against the mattress.

"Let's see how you apologize now," purred Nakia.

It was the permission he had been waiting for.

He moved his body up the length of hers with the grace and smoothness of the panther he was, reaching her face and delivering a slow, soft kiss to her waiting mouth. He felt her give slightly beneath this lips, and a rush of relief flooded through him. Perhaps she would forgive him after all.

T'Challa proceeded to pleasure Nakia in all the gentlest, quietest ways he knew possible, being even slower and more careful than he had earlier in the day when they started his silly experiment. He caressed every inch of her body--strong arms, beautiful chest and stomach, the softness of her upper legs. He spent minutes that turned into a feeling of hours just touching her skin and kissing her mouth and neck without trying anything further. She seemed surprised and pleased by his restraint. They could both tell from the erection pushing against her thigh that this holding back was new to him. He would do whatever it took though. He would not risk losing her trust again.

Only after Nakia's body had fully accepted his own, once he began to coax moans out of her with his lips and tongue and she began to press herself up toward him, asking physically for more, only then did he drift his hand down to her sex. She gasped when he touched her there, swirling his fingers through her folds as though they made up the most delicate and precious of flowers. Part of him wanted to dive down and see the magnificence that he was moving his digits through, but he couldn't bring himself to lose sight and contact with her eyes and nose and that gorgeous mouth. He would sense all of her beauty from here.

He removed her clothing, one article at a time. First her outer dress, which he slid over her head from the bottom up, then that lovely and devilish slip that had driven him mad when she first tried it on. Finally he hooked the rim of her underwear and pulled them, teased them really, down her long, smooth legs, before discarding them off to the side. Her bra he unhooked to release her full breasts and pointed nipples. He gathered one in his mouth and felt her purr vibrate through her entire body. This was what it meant to worship another human being.

He slid into her then, and she was ready. T'Challa thrust, but without his full force, instead sliding his length in and out of her slickness as though she could break any moment. The slow tempo seemed to arouse Nakia even more, who cupped his ass and tried to draw him in faster, harder, deeper. He didn't let her.

"This is my present to you, my love," he whispered. "Let me do this the right way."

And so she released the firmness of her grip and sank back into the pillows, where he finally sense her surrender to her own body, to his, to the magic that they created between the two of them with their coming together. He made her come twice, before he was satisfied that he had properly done his job, sometimes pulling out, so he could resist his own tidal wave, and instead taking her with his tongue and fingers, making her moan and writhe with abandon at the sensation.

As he pulled himself back up and entered her for the final time he caught himself saying the same words over and over again.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry, my love," he murmured into her ear as he moved in and out the final seconds before his orgasm claimed him and the crest of her third rising tension finally broke into gentle waves of pleasure. He could feel her entire body riding for half a minute with her clenching around his draining member. She whimpered and kissed him as she came down from the mountain he had taken her to. A tear escaped the corner of her eyelid, as she closed them, savoring the feeling.

When she opened her eyes again, she appraised him, stroked his forearm with a gentle hand and pulsed a final time around his length, still inside her.

"I forgive you, T'Challa," she said. "I forgive you forever, but don't make me doubt you again."

He vowed that he never would.


End file.
